


yours

by allmywill



Series: be mine for always [3]
Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Beaches, Emotional, First Dance, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Making Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Old Friends, Prequel, Romance, Roses, Sobriety, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmywill/pseuds/allmywill
Summary: John’s not afraid of the future anymore. He knows Roger will be right by his side, through anything that hurts, no matter the circumstance.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes
Series: be mine for always [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597213
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	yours

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve been wrestling with this the past week or so, but here it is, finally! thank you for supporting this series. it means so much to me.

_July 2004_

The California sand is still warm beneath John’s feet. The sun is setting, but there’s a delightful kind of warmth lingering in the air from the hot summer afternoon. Waves crash in the distance, then draw back again, and repeat as expected. The constant sound helps soothe his nerves. He looks down to his hands, watching them tremble, like they used to when he was coming off the drugs. He never should have picked them up in the first place.

But today is not the day to worry about his past mistakes. Today is the present, today is another reason to keep going: for the future, for the band, for his soon to be husband. For Roger. He smiles and looks out to the waves, where the glistening water meets the horizon. It sparkles happily, like it knows. He’s marrying his best friend today. He’s marrying someone who helped him gain the strength he needed when he was weak, his voice of reason, his light in the darkness. The smile on his face widens; he feels so incredibly lucky to be alive.

He keeps walking, knowing that Roger is probably feeling the same as him right now. He’s equal parts excited and nervous, though he has nothing to truly worry about. The hardest parts are over: the proposing, the planning, the waiting. John briefly recalls picking out the rings, confused and lost until Nick stepped in like the angel he is. John doesn’t know what he would do without him. Simon, too. They’ve been his main support system throughout all this.

Roger’s face when he proposed had the happiest of tears spilling out of his eyes. John shot up from his knee and jumped into his arms, as they mumbled about how funny it was that they wouldn’t need to change their names. How common must that be? It just made them feel even luckier, like somehow, the universe knew. They belong together: in their band and in each other’s arms.

He regrets leaving when he did, but he knew at the time it was what he needed to do. He needed to get himself in line before he could come back, to be _alive_ to be able to play. It’s all behind him now. It’s all behind _them_ now.

John is forever grateful that he still had a band to return to. He can thank Nick and Simon’s unbreakable bond for that. Despite their obvious struggle, they kept Duran going. Through creative ruts, a changing music industry, and one too many record companies writing them off as has-beens, they braved it all. Now they’re back out the other side, and things are so much better for the five of them.

Sparks flew instantly upon seeing Roger every day, like they were at their peak again. They couldn’t get enough of each other—the adrenaline mixed with their excitement produced a flame that never died down, a physical relationship that became much more. It was built on a solid foundation, their strong friendship growing into love. It felt so natural, like falling asleep, sinking slow and right into a beautiful dream. They were bound to happen. They were a pair long before they realized it. At least that’s what Simon, Nick, and Andy claim.

Maybe they’re right. John remembers the height of their career in bits and pieces, fragmented memories, astray in his mind from all the stress and substances he shouldn’t have used as heavily as he did. It’s all over now, he reminds himself again. Today is yet another one of his rebirths. He’s getting that much closer to his idea of heaven. He’s flying high, not quite how he used to, and he’s looking down for the first time in a while. He’s not scared. Not anymore.

A gentle sea breeze caresses the white linen he’s wearing. His stark red tie stays in place, clipped down for the occasion. He starts to make his way back, where the small ceremony will be taking place. He’s closer to the water now, and with each step he takes, the waves draw closer to his feet. Water washes over them eventually, almost reaching the bottom of his black cuffed trousers as he walks. He’s glad he didn’t decide to put his shoes on yet.

John’s heart pounds a little harder once the spot comes into view more. Tiki torches are already flickering, white tents set up complete with strings of lights inside to illuminate them. Their guest list is much smaller than Nick and Simon’s was, but there’s still crowds of people all around, there to see the two of them. 

“JT!”

The familiar voice brings him out of his deep train of thought. He looks up and his eyes are met with Andy, who’s heading towards him with open arms. John grins and closes the distance between them, taking the smaller guitarist into his arms.

“Thanks for coming, Ands.” John squeezes him tighter before letting go. “Really means a lot.”

Andy claps him on the back. “I wouldn’t miss your big day for anything. Care for a little walk?”

John swallows and nods. There’s still time, and maybe it’ll calm him down. They turn back around and start a leisurely stroll down the beach again. Their strides match up after a few paces, in synch, just like they were back in their Power Station days. That bond has returned, and somehow, it’s stronger than ever on their new album.

“So,” Andy begins, opening up the conversation to something deeper. “How do you feel? You look nervous as fuck.”

John looks to him, at the sunglasses perched on his face. “I _am_ nervous as fuck. This... this is a lot to take in.”

“Alright. What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. I want this to be the best day for him. He deserves it so much. I’m worried I’ll fuck it up somehow.” John looks down again, watching their feet as they leave a trail of footprints in the sand behind them.

Andy reaches over and touches his arm. “Hey, you won’t. I know you won’t. You know why I know this?”

“Why?”

“Because you sobered up for him. You got clean so you could come back to Duran, so you could be there for _him_.” Andy’s voice is sincere and soothing. “I’m proud of you. Really. That couldn’t have been easy.”

John breathes deeply, the salty air relaxing him as it fills his lungs. “Yeah... it wasn’t but I did it. For him. I really love him.” He feels himself growing misty.

Andy removes his hand from his arm, squeezing before he lets go. “He loves you too. I can tell. You two have something special.”

Though he’s still quite nervous, the trembling of his hands has faded and he feels a little bit lighter now. Andy has always been good for chats like this; he’s a good listener and he wants to understand. John is so glad he’s back in the band, next to him. He feels complete.

“Thank you. I’m thinking too much.”

Andy laughs, a contagious sound. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, Johnny.”

John can’t help but laugh with him at that one. “Shut it! I think plenty.”

“About our drummer, yes.”

He’s not wrong. John relaxes, his mind off his worries for now. “You’re so damn lucky I put up with your shit.”

It’s like the old days again, carefree and on top of the world. Maybe not in the same way they were then, but John thinks it’s even better this time around. They’re a little more mature. Only a little.

And Andy has always been a force to be reckoned with. Still, he has his own soft side, as any person would. “That I am. It’s good to be back.”

Before John knows it, he’s slipping the ring on Roger’s finger, tears in his eyes. He does the same for him, and as he watches him slip it on, he swears he feels like he’s floating.

There’s a light breeze and it caresses them, the perfect moment for their first kiss as a married couple. John’s heart is ready to burst in his chest, the most beautiful feeling filling him from head to toe as their lips touch. He knows his family and his band are watching them, just a few feet away on the sand. The support he’s received from everyone has washed away all his nerves, like the waves wash away sand from one’s hands.

He’s filled with love and life tonight. Roger smiles at him so brightly, taking his hand as if to say _we made it_. In that moment, John knows getting clean was the best decision of his life, since it all lead to this, to now, with his husband.

There’s flowers, there’s laughter, but there’s no alcohol. No coke, either. All John needs is Roger.

The sea breezes continue to scatter around them as they join for their first dance, palm to palm in the warm air. It’s a moment all their own. The clock may as well stop ticking and the world may as well stop spinning altogether. Roger clutches onto John as they sway together, the inspiring sound of synths all around them.

_Watching every motion_

_In my foolish lover's game_

They picked out the song together one night, cuddled up in each other’s arms; the two of them a cocoon of warmth. Roger was the first one to bring it up, and at first, John was surprised. But surely, as the chorus played in his head, the tender words etched there from hearing it so frequently in years prior, he knew it would be a perfect fit for them.

He doesn’t care if anyone thinks it’s cheesy. He’s too happy to care. He has healed. He’s more alive than he’s ever been and thankful to be.

_On this endless ocean_

_Finally lovers know no shame_

Terri Nunn’s voice shakes them to their core; pure emotion creating what feels like high voltage electricity between them. John keeps Roger close and lets the music whisk his conscience away. His hands move to his waist, feeling his compact, yet muscular body underneath his shirt. Roger’s hands fall to his shoulders.

When their eyes meet, it’s like coming home. Everything is falling into place, piece by piece, and John doesn’t think things could get much better than this. He smiles and leans forward, letting his forehead rest on Roger’s own, their breaths mingling as they dance on the sand.

“I’m... I’m happy, Rog. So damn happy.” John doesn’t know what else to say. He can hardly find the words to fit the moment, that part of his brain numbed. He can feel Roger smiling.

“I am too,” he replies. He hooks his fingers behind John’s neck. “Happiest I’ve been.”

_ Take my breath away _

_ Take my breath away _

John moves his face so they’re cheek to cheek. He presses his body into Roger, trying to get closer to him, though that might be physically impossible. Their souls are intertwined, hearts synched up too. They are connected in every way two people can be.

They sway to the music, breathing together wordlessly. They’ve been holding back tears all night, trying to hold on for the other, but sometimes emotions have a mind all their own. John knows how lucky he is to be here right now. It’s hitting him harder than he anticipated.

_Never hesitating_

_To become the fated ones_

He didn’t plan on breaking down like this. But how could he not? He remembers how it felt to be hanging by a mere thread, clinging to life and watching as the darkness waits, ready to consume him entirely. Those memories are ones he can’t forget, for he’ll carry them around for the rest of his days. He starts to shake in Roger’s arms. The tears flow from his eyes freely, so he buries his face in his shoulder.

“Oh, Johnny,” Roger coos, moving his hands to rub his back.

John smiles through his watery eyes. He blinks and the glowing lights around them blur. “I ruined the night, didn’t I?”

“No, babe, you didn’t. I promise.” Roger’s voice in his ear is relaxing, tranquilizing all his fears and doubts.

_ My love _

_ Take my breath away _

“Okay,” John sputters, trying to keep it together. Roger is warm and solid against him and he never wants to let go. “It’s just... I feel lucky to be here,” he whispers, “with you, after everything that happened.”

Roger knows. He thinks about it all the time, how badly things could have ended up for John. “We both are.” He leans in and presses a kiss to John’s cheek, his touch saturated in tenderness.

_ When the mirror crashed I called you _

_ And turned to hear you say _

The ocean waves crash in the distance, drawing in and out again. The natural sound mixes with the driving, moving beat of the song, suspending them in time as they hold each other.

_ If only for today _

_ I am unafraid _

John’s not afraid of the future anymore. He knows Roger will be right by his side, through anything that hurts, no matter the circumstance. The love and trust they hold for one another is incomparable. It’s one of a kind, wonderfully unique.

_ Take my breath away _

Roger takes one of John’s hands, matching up their palms and lacing their fingers together. John squeezes his hand with a soft sigh, inaudible, yet Roger can feel it on his face. This is a moment all their own, special and sacred minutes they will hold close forever.

They take deep breaths together, the sea breezes bringing them new air to breathe. Everything is alright, John concludes. He smiles wide as his eyes clear up. He’s okay.

_My love_

_Take my breath away_

Nick and Simon look on, their own hands intertwined. Their wedding rings have worn little indentations on their fingers over the years. Those marks serve as reminders, telling them what belongs there whenever they take them off, which is rare anymore. The golden bands are like an extension of themselves now.

Watching John and Roger makes them think back to the day they married, all the joy they felt that cold January evening. Nick redirects his gaze to Simon, taking in the details of his face in the warm light. Though the beginning was rocky, things are surely looking up now: they’ve reached their forties together. At forty-five, Nick reckons he’s aged quite well. He tells him all the time.

He catches his husband’s attention after a few seconds. He looks over and a smile breaks across his face, blue eyes lighting up with love. Nick cuddles into his side. Simon lets his hand go and puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in. He fits there perfectly, like he was made to slot into the curves of his body.

Simon looks up at the sky. There’s no stars, but he doesn’t mind. All the light he needs is down here, on the same ground he’s standing on.

This is a new era for them, too.

Their night ends while it’s still quite early, since there was no alcohol involved. For this, Roger is thankful. Though exciting and delightful in every way, he’s beat and would much rather spend the remainder of the night in bed with his husband.

The suite they picked is simple yet luxurious. By the large bed, a vase of white roses sits on the nightstand. When they walk into the room for the first time, John notices them right away. The two of them sit down on the bed together and he picks one out of the vase.

“Why white, I wonder.” He caresses the petals with a gentle hand. “And not red?”

Roger watches him intently, looking at the rose, then at his face. “Red can be a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I guess so. White means innocence though, and we’re far from innocent.” John chuckles holding out the rose.

“To me, it means a clean slate. A fresh start. A new beginning.” Roger takes it from him, thinking. “You’ve never been innocent for as long as I’ve known you.”

John puts a hand on his knee, his touch warm and comforting. “Not even baby-faced Nigel?” he asks with an adorable pout.

“Even baby-faced Nigel had some dirty little secrets, I reckon.”

Roger reaches out and lets the rose run along the edge of his jawline, dragging it to his chin. The soft petals glide along his skin and he grins at the feeling. 

“He wanted the hot new drummer of his band, but was too stupid to make a move for fifteen bloody years.”

“You have me now, don’t you?”

John feels him drop the rose on the bed. He looks into his warm eyes, invited into his world with just one glance. “I hope I do. You are wearing my ring, after all.”

Roger finds his hand, the one the ring adorns, and places his own atop it. “You had me then, before we ever realized it. I used to watch you play at the Rum Runner and I just... was fascinated by you.”

“Even in _those_ glasses?” John thinks back to his thick frames from so many years prior.

“Even in those glasses. You were cute. Still are.”

“Can a forty-four year old man be cute?” John laughs.

Roger nods without hesitation. “You prove it just by existing, dear.”

“So damn cheesy.” John reaches out and cups his face, leaning in. Their noses brush, close but still not close enough.

“You love it.”

Their lips meet in a pliant kiss, both careful as they cradle each other. The sudden lulling patter of rain outside catches their attention as they draw closer; Roger climbing into John’s lap, needing more of him. Always needing more.

“Good thing the rain held out for us.” Roger hooks his fingers around the back of John’s neck, like he did for their first dance. This is a different dance entirely, a private dance, for their eyes only.

John sighs against his mouth, lips ghosting the corner of Roger’s as they mutter soft words. “Would be such a shame to see you all soaked in that white shirt,” he tells him with smirk.

Roger rolls his eyes. “Oh, I know you’d just _hate_ that.”

“It would be even worse to see you with no shirt.” There’s the classic John Taylor charm again. Roger can’t resist it. He never could.

“That can be arranged.”

Lips moving in synch again, this time with more force, Roger grinds down in John’s lap, eliciting a barely there moan from him. He feels John’s long fingers working to get him out of his shirt, slow but not too slow. When he pops the final button, he shimmies out of it and lets it land on the floor.

John’s hands wander, grazing over Roger’s pecs, trailing down to his stomach. He sucks in a sharp breath, already sensitive to his loving touch. He reaches up to work at his tie, loosening it and tossing it, joining his shirt.

Roger further undresses him, continuing the pace they have set up. He takes his time, and soon enough, he and John are matching. Their dilated eyes meet in the low light as the rain comes down heavier outside, an atmospheric feeling washing over them.

They are both vulnerable, stripped down; the layers they hide underneath peeled away. They are honest. They are themselves, no more and no less.

“I love you.” The words fly off of John’s lips, the same words that used to scare him. He’s not afraid anymore.

Roger is filled with such admiration, just as he was all those years ago, when they were a couple of kids with a band and a dream. “I love you too. I’m so proud of you, you know that, right?” He’s welling up again, the emotions he feels so pungent.

John knows. But Roger can tell him over and over again, hundreds, thousands of times. He won’t tire of hearing it. “I know,” he utters, voice close to breaking. He is reduced to simple words. “I made it.”

“You did.”

They resume, helping each other out of the rest of their clothes with gentle hands. They paint their love for each other as they roll around in the sheets, lips going journeys familiar to them, but never ever boring. It’s difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins; their skin flush together, pressing impossibly close as they show each other how they feel with their bodies.

John lays Roger down, his perfect little body spread out just for him. Years ago, he would have wrinkled his nose at the term ‘making love’, but not anymore. Not tonight, for sure. Even in the early stages of their relationship, it was always more than sex. They knew it then, and they’d never doubt it now.

And Roger lets him in. He’s never shut him out, not even when he was at his worst some ten years ago now. Their bodies move together on the bed, two hearts beating and sharing the rhythm. They’ve always been synchronized, both in bed and in the band. They feed off each other, they push and pull, they give and they take, making up where the other may lack.

The white rose remains on the bed as they come undone together, sticky skin ablaze with the fiery passion they created. This is yet another new beginning for the two of them. It’s another chance at life, another chance to rebuild and reach new heights.

Their hands clasp, interlocking fingers that feel so right when matched up. The shiny new bands they wear will wear creases into their skin as time goes by, signifying the love that they share. It’s a fire that will never die. It’s a beat that cannot be matched.

“I love being yours,” John says against the skin of his neck.

Roger beams. “So do I.”


End file.
